


Every Rose Has its Thorn

by wildcat88



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-20
Updated: 2010-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 01:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcat88/pseuds/wildcat88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the inhabitants of an allied world fail to respond to messages, Lorne and his team are sent to investigate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Rose Has its Thorn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Framlingem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Framlingem/gifts).



"I'm not sure 'rose gardens' was the correct translation of those glyphs." Evan pinched the bridge of his nose, berating himself for leaving his antihistamines on his bathroom counter. "Rose jungle is more like it."

"Not feeling well, Major?" Kryzinski asked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Throbbing headache, unable to breathe, sinuses so clogged he felt like his eardrums would burst, and eyes that wouldn't stop watering. "I'm good, Ballsy." Marines didn't consider allergies manly, and Evan wouldn't give them one more opportunity to rag on the Air Force. "Keep your eyes peeled. Teyla says the locals are friendly, but it doesn't hurt to be cautious."

His team nodded as one, their gazes redirecting to the tangle of foliage that ripped at their clothing and hair. Thorns the size of his grandma's knitting needles adorned thick branches of blooms in a rainbow of colors that weaved through stately evergreens. Sergeant Woodson, who would have made a hell of a linebacker in another life, hacked his way through them with a sword borrowed from Ronon. Captain Kryzinski followed, his helmet jammed on to protect the riot of frizzy red hair that had earned him the nickname "Fireball" early in life. Lieutenant Phung, barely five feet tall and able to kick all their asses at the same time, brought up the six so silently Evan had to glance over his shoulder occasionally to make sure she was still there.

"Almost…through," Woodson grunted as he tugged and pulled until the sword came free from a branch as thick as Evan's bicep. "I can see the village."

Kryzinski swore and ducked when the branch swung toward his head. "How do these people get to the gate?"

"Don't think they have recently which is why we're here," Evan said. "No one has heard from them in a while, but no one's had time to check on them until now."

"Lucky us," Kryzinski muttered. "Step out of the way, Woody, and let a man handle it."

"Sure, Cap." Woodson offered the sword to Phung. "Have at it."

Kryzinski sputtered, and Phung arched a delicate brow before she effortlessly carved a neat path through the remaining web of thorns.

"Show-off." Woodson sheathed the sword in the scabbard he wore on his broad back. "I loosened it up."

"Dream on." Kryzinski snorted a laugh as he pushed past Woodson into the clearing.

Evan shook his head and clapped Woodson's shoulder when he went by.

Phung smiled pleasantly. "You need to hold the sword at more of an angle."

"Why didn't you say so half an hour ago?" Woodson asked as he followed her into the clearing.

"You didn't ask." She paused at Evan's elbow. "Looks awfully quiet, Major. I'd expect cook fires and playing children."

"Me, too, Lieutenant. Got a few faint life signs… this way." Evan waved a hand toward the far right building. "Let's go."

Evan changed the settings twice on the life signs detector, but the dots remained constant. No one was hiding in the jungle or the caves. Somehow, the village had gone from almost three thousand to twelve in a month's time. The pessimistic voice in his head whispered the unlikelihood that they were all on a pilgrimage. That voice was rarely wrong.

"Holy God." Kryzinski had reached the building and was backing away, one hand over his nose and mouth.

Thankful for his clogged sinuses, Evan stepped to the door and wished he hadn't. Anyone still alive wouldn't be for long. "Phung, double time it to the gate. Call for a med team, full hazmat gear. Tell them it looks like hemorrhagic fever." He turned to stare her in the eyes. "And no matter what, don't go through the gate. We stay here until a med team clears us. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

As she dashed off, Evan pulled the door closed. "Nothing we can do for these people."

"But, sir, some of them are still alive!" Woodson protested.

"We can't save them."

Kryzinski pulled off his helmet and raked his fingers through the mass of red curls. "We can offer them a little comfort."

"We don't know how this fever is spread," Evan said. "It could be airborne, but most likely it's spread through bodily fluids. Look at the cuts on your arms, Woody. If you come in contact with anything from those oozing sores, you'll be infected."

Woodson stood tall, reminding Evan of Teal'c less the gold tattoo. "I'll risk it, sir. I can't stand here and do nothing."

"We have gloves in the first aid kit," Kryzinski said, "and we can wrap cloths around our noses and mouths." He stripped off his tac vest and jacket. "My sleeves cover my arms, and Woody can wear my jacket to cover his."

His men's safety was his first concern, but Evan wanted to help the dying as much as his men did. After an agonizing moment, he nodded. "Glove up." As they sprang to it, he added, "We do this slowly and carefully. The weather's good so we'll bring the living out here."

With gloves pulled up over their sleeves and gauze over their noses and mouths, Woodson and Kryzinski resembled extras in a zombie movie, and Evan had to stifle a laugh. But opening the door to the sick house sucked all humor out of him. The first aid kit held only two pairs of gloves so Evan held the life signs detector, flinching each time a dot faded to black, and directed his men to the living. A glance told him the house held around fifty people. They pulled out eight who were still breathing.

"What now, Major?" Woodson questioned.

Evan knelt by a teenage boy, watching his slight chest lift and lower with each shallow breath. "We wait."

It was the longest ten minutes of his life. By the time Lieutenant Phung charged into the clearing leading six others outfitted in blue hazmat suits, the boy and a woman had died.

Keller stared at Evan for a minute, wide-eyed, then gave a sharp nod. "Major Lorne, I'll have to ask you and your team to remain here until we diagnose this and test you for it. In the meantime, don't touch anything."

"Understood, Doc." Evan turned to his team. "You heard the doc. Lieutenant, keep an eye on the gate. We don't want any unexpected visitors around."

Phung gave a sad smile and headed back into the thorny jungle.

Kryzinski and Woodson plopped down under a tree, their eyes following every movement made by the medics. Keller gathered blood samples from the six survivors while the others started IVs and strapped on oxygen masks.

When she turned to leave, Evan moved to her side. "Doc, I've seen something like this before. I'm guessing we'll need to burn the village." He cut his eyes toward his men who were staring grim-faced at the triage. "Maybe we can get started on that so no one else has to get exposed."

Keller's gaze roamed over the silent collection of homes. "Can you keep it controlled?"

Evan glanced at the sky. "Not much wind to speak of and the ground seems fairly moist. Shouldn't be a problem."

"Begin in the back and don't let it spread to the nearest buildings until we're ready to leave." She bobbed her head at the vials of blood in her hands. "It's going to take a few hours to analyze these samples even with all of Atlantis' wonders."

"I know."

Keller squeezed Evan's shoulder then eased into the jungle.

Evan strode toward the tree and kicked Kryzinski's boot. "Come on. We've got work to do."

They headed to the far side of the village and systematically went through each building even though the life sign detector showed nothing. A storage shed held vats of an oil likely used for lamps, and they generously doused the brightly painted wood frames of the farthest buildings. As the structures slowly burned, Evan again was thankful for his congested nasal passages as Kryzinski and Woodson pressed their hands over their gauze-covered faces. Once the first set was smoking embers, they moved to the next and the next until they reached the sick house.

Evan slumped as the medics placed another body back inside. "Damn."

"Doctor Keller reported in," one of the medics said. "They found a match of this virus in the database, along with a cure." The man shook his head as he looked over the devastated village. "If we'd only known…"

"I hear you. I'll bring it up to Colonel Sheppard and Mr. Woolsey as soon as I get back. We'll figure out a way for folks to contact us when something like this happens." Evan stared down at the three frail forms still breathing. "You said a cure. These people will live?"

"We think so. The doctor is on her way with the serum they found and more hazmat suits so we can get everyone home. Including you, sir."

Evan smiled gratefully. "Looking forward to that."

Later, when he was ensconced in a quarantine room with his teammates to wait out the two day incubation period, Evan smiled again. Phung was trying to teach Woodson, who had surprising grace for a man his size, some yoga poses while Kryzinski offered a few x-rated suggestions on what he could do in the poses. Evan had a sketch pad filled with drawings of worlds and people he worked with, but none he liked more than the ones of his team. Inhaling a breath of antiseptic-tinged air, Evan pulled out his sketch pad and got to work.


End file.
